


Robot Boy

by thatsmygvn (cougarlips)



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: 6x14, Canon Compliant, Daryl-Centric, M/M, POV Daryl, POV Third Person, Twice as Far
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 03:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6313213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cougarlips/pseuds/thatsmygvn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>If the run back to the tracks took longer than the one carrying Eugene to Hilltop, the trudge to Alexandria went by as slowly as cold molasses in the winter. He felt the tears continue to slip down his cheeks and he knew they left his chin and dropped right onto her corpse but he couldn’t stop himself. Carol’s voice echoed inside his mind: </i>“You have to let yourself feel.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Robot Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the song "Robot Boy" by Linkin Park.

“ _I asked you to come with me because you’re brave like my brother and you actually make me feel_ safe!”

They carried Eugene’s limp body to Hilltop. He was breathing. He was _alive_. Still, Daryl wrung his hands together, sitting in the dirt outside the trailer. On the ground in front of him rested a single, bloody bolt.

“ _I could’ve gone with Tara. I could have told her I loved her but I didn’t because I was afraid._ That’s _what’s stupid -- not coming out here, not facing my shit. And it makes me sick that you guys aren’t even_ trying!”

The guards at Hilltop let them in without a word, even sent some of their own out to help carry Eugene. Daryl stayed to watch them carry him inside the farthest trailer, stayed to see Jesus run out of Barrington House, before turning back and leaving as quickly as he came.

“ _You’re strong! And you’re_ smart _! And you’re both_ really _good people_!”

The run back to the tracks seemed to take twice as long, even without the deadweight of the unconscious Eugene hanging between him and two others. The dread spilled into his stomach and his chest heaved when he came back to the spot where it happened. The smell of fresh vomit remained, but the smell of the dead is what hit him, pungent and heavy, settling in the air like smog, forcing Daryl to the ground beside her corpse.

“ _And if you don’t -- wake up… and face your_ ….”

He looked at the bag, still firmly secured around her torso, and as a sob built in his chest, he lifted her and cradled her to her chest. There was no need to mutilate her further, no need to ease a blade through the soft spot behind her ear -- how many times had he made that exact shot on walkers? Her brain was pierced clean and concise.

Her body was still warm.

He didn’t care that Dwight’s abandoned men were starting to turn. He didn’t care that he was alone, in the middle of the tracks where anyone could come up and kill him. He didn’t care that he was as vulnerable as he’d been in months, cradling a dead woman in his arms, crying like a broken child.

All he cared about was Tara, who was so terrified to leave Denise for the two week run that she confessed her sins to Gabriel. All he cared about was Denise, who risked her life for some soda to give to her girlfriend. All he cared about was the woman who died telling him to stop being scared because all she did was live in fear.

He tensed when he heard footsteps approaching fast behind him. Easing her body down, he reached for the gun on his hip, pulling it round as he stood and faced the newcomer. Wearing a thin tank top and jeans, Jesus raised his hands, palms forward. His eyes landed on Denise’s form and traveled up to Daryl’s face.

“You’re crying,” he said simply, confusion in his eyes.

Daryl didn’t respond. He stared at Jesus, feeling the tears ooze out of his narrowed eyes before he turned around and dropped once more to his knees.

Jesus walked around the perimeter, using one of his Hilltop daggers to put down the slowly reanimating henchmen. Daryl stared at Denise, thinking only of Tara, only of how he was going to have to break the news to her.

Slowly, Jesus came up to her other side. He looked into Daryl’s face, waiting patiently for the other man to meet his eyes before quietly telling him, “I can help you take her back to Alexandria.”

Daryl wiped his face with the back of his hand, jerking his head before grunting at Jesus, who began to lift her form from the ground. “Nah,” Daryl muttered, his voice coarse. “I’ll carry her. Cover me.”

Jesus nodded, pulling out a second knife from his pockets, waiting as Daryl picked her up in his arms, lifting her slowly and cradling her against his chest.

If the run back to the tracks took longer than the one carrying Eugene to Hilltop, the trudge to Alexandria went by as slowly as molasses in the winter. He felt the tears continue to slip down his cheeks and he knew they left his chin and dropped right onto her corpse but he couldn’t stop himself. Carol’s voice echoed inside his mind: “ _You have to let yourself feel_.”

“... _you guys aren’t even trying_!”

Sasha stood on guard. Daryl barely caught her exclamation as she and Spencer opened the gates, allowing Daryl and Jesus inside the community walls. He heard Jesus speak to Sasha, heard Eugene’s name and Hilltop being mentioned, but as the residents came pouring out of their homes to see the commotion, as the eyes trailed over Jesus and landed on Daryl, on Denise in his arms with an arrow in her skull pointing towards the sky -- Daryl’s poker face dissolved, his resolve blowing away like ashes in the wind.

Jesus rested a hand against his shoulder, guiding him towards the town’s grave site, steering him away from the prying eyes of the Alexandrians.

Glenn and Maggie joined them at the corner of the community, a freshly laundered sheet and a pair of shovels in hand, their faces pale with shock and worry. Gabriel joined shortly after, wielding a shovel of his own, and as the three began to dig the grave, Daryl and Jesus began to wrap her body in the fabric.

Daryl slowly eased her bag from around her torso, removing from it the can of Crush and the keyring she pocketed for her brother. He held the items in his hands and felt a searing pain in his chest, a pain that had nothing to do with physical sickness but hurt just the same. He watched as Jesus held off on covering her face before grabbing the shaft of the arrow and wrenching it out, wincing at the sound, at the visible cringe Daryl couldn’t help.

He helped them put her in the ground, helped them etch her name on a chunk of wood to use as a gravestone, helped them write her name on the ever-lengthening list of the lost ones.

He ignored the dazed and confused glances from the other Alexandrians, the looks of shock and horror as he carried a bloodied arrow and a dusty keyring. He followed Jesus out of the town much like he led him in, back to the tracks to gather his crossbow, and made his way back to Eugene, Rosita, and Abraham.

Neither of them said a word.

**Author's Note:**

> i have a TWD blog on tumblr now! go follow [@thatsmygvn](http://thatsmygvn.tumblr.com/) if you're interested


End file.
